A day in the life of...

Right now, I'm sitting at my desk, staring out my window.  It's getting dark, in fact, it's almost the same colour of quiet, grayish blue that it was this morning, when I woke with a start.

It took me a minute to figure out what was going on. I could feel the breeze, I could smell the rain, the air felt damp, and some bird somewhere was trying very hard to get a message to someone.   I was lying with my eyes closed, disoriented, until suddenly I remembered what I'd been trying to figure out all weekend...
My rental forms, that were supposed to be in the mail already.
The writing samples I needed to get ready for my job interview.
The job interview I wanted to do some preparations for.
It took me less time to sit up than to open my eyes.  I was sitting there, breathing hard, my chest tight, my head spinning...actually surprised to be in my bed, not outside somewhere.  The bird was really, really loud.

After hearing my dad get ready and leave, all at some unreasonable hour of the morning, I calmed myself down enough to fall back asleep.

The second time I woke up, it was in time to wake mom up, and wake Tim up, and get them out the door to Tim's doctor's appointment.  Then fight with my hair, force myself to eat, get some papers together, look up the bus schedule, tidy my room, iron my clothes, put on some make up, brush my teeth, and wait to leave.

I think the interview went alright - I would really, really like the job.  But that being said, I know they want to hire someone with a disability, so I have a disadvantage right of the bat.  I'll know by the end of the week, hopefully!
After the interview, I put the papers in the mail...and all the stressful things I had to do for the day were done.

Hopefully tomorrow, if I wake up to the birds, it'll be a calm and quiet morning.

I can just see the silhouette of the evergreen trees against a deep blue backdrop.
The birds have hushed, and now I can just hear the crickets and my keys.

There's lots of things I miss about residence.  But the traffic isn't one of them.

Inside the box.

What I should be doing:	Writing cover letters, putting together targeted resumes.  Finishing rental forms.  Emailing the rental office. Asking questions.	Cleaning my window.  Organizing my shelf.  Going for  a run.  Going for a bike ride. Doing something healthy and active.  Feeding my cat.	Reading my bible.  Praying.  Writing the letters I promised to write to my friends.
What I want to be doing:	Walking on the beach, breathing salt air, my hair being tossed by the wind, feeling the light rain against my face Sitting with a guitar on the forest floor, staring up at the huge, old trees. Thinking about their strength, their roots, the storms they’ve weathered, the shelter they are for so many living things, the beauty they add to the earth, how even when they die they become a home for new life, or are used to warm, to cover, to hold.	Laughing. Talking about nothing; and yet talking about more than I’ve talked about for a long time.  How are the rental forms? Frustrating. How’s the job hunt? Fruitless. But not because there are no jobs.  Because I’m lacking the motivation to seek the fruit.  Because I really want to just lie lazy, watch a movie, sleep in, talk to friends, and take a break.  I want to be done with school.  And the idea of spending my time off, working, and saving every penny I make to go back to school somehow doesn’t appeal to me.	I want to be doing these things because I feel like it.  Because I have organized my life, I’m not stressing about things that aren’t worth stressing about, and I just want to write out of complete love that I know is real, that exists, that’s the person that I really am and want to be…but somehow I think I’d be writing out of loving obligation.
Feel?	I don’t remember the last time that I was stressed like this.  Even when I had papers due within 24 hours.  This is the tight chest overwhelmed, trying not to cry, wanting to be 10 years old using sidewalk chalk to create my own world with no problems.  This makes me feel small.  Like something slapped me in the face and said “HA!” here you go, Jennifer, you aren’t grown up.  You aren’t ready . You can’t do everything. You aren’t a superhero-pirate-ninja-jedi-queen of the world. You are small.	Then here’s the wise part of me.  The part that knows, this is good for you.  This is growth for you.  This is remembering that you can’t and shouldn’t do everything in your own strength.  This is your opportunity to really be in the so called real world that everyone’s been talking about for so long.  This is GREAT!  This is the hike up the mountain to the beautiful view.  This is the preparation for a delicious meal.  This is the beginning of a marvelous thing! You are a beautiful, talented, blessed young woman and CAN reach your dreams.	I’m tired of forms.  Of formats.  Of boxes.  Of walls.  Of rules.  Of limitations.  Of archetypes. I feel trapped.  And I know I’m trapping myself.  But somehow, when I say I want to let go, and I think I want to let go, and I know I need to let go, I don’t. And I know that somewhere inside of me there’s a person that wants to say yes to singing in the choir.  That loves  the black and white of paperwork.  That loves to hear and know and feel with others.  But I feel like it’s too much work to feel the good things.  It’s so much easier to just not.   AND I FEEL GUITLY ABOUT THIS. But the feeling’s still there.  Guilt or not.  Knowing it’s wrong or not.  Knowing I need to do something about it or not. Knowing I’m whining or not.
	And so I’ve blogged.  I’m really not as down as I sound.  The world’s really not as dark as I paint it.  Words are tricky.  They make me seem like I’m on an endless fall.  They make me seem like I’ve shut out all the light.	But I can manipulate them too.  Maybe if I use them, twisted, worn out, give up, shut down, turn away, dark alley, solemnly swear, Stick them to paper, or cyber space, or some sort of strange document I don’t understand, but they are saved.  And they are out.	And hopefully, they are out for good.  I can see how silly they are.  I can see how pointless they are.  I can see how dangerous they are. Even I don’t know which mask I’m wearing now.

The wheels on the bus go round and round.

Today was a day of driving.  To Langford.  Around in a circle in Langford.  To Victoria. Around in a circle in Victoria.  Back to Langford.  Around in another circle in Langford.  Back to Sooke...completing yet another circle.

You know the picture of freedom:
The beautiful young person driving a red convertible, hair flying in the wind, racing along an open stretch of road that runs beside the ocean, sunny, happy music blasting, smiles all around?

That will never happen in my life.

I sit in the truck, muscles tense, hands on the steering wheel, tremendously focussed, careful, and stressed.  And I wonder if I'll ever get to the point where lane changes dont cause heart attacks, and being surrounded by busses and delivery trucks doesn't cause claustrophobia, and large intersections dont cause extreme self confidence issues.

In short,  am I ever going to be relaxed behind the wheel?
Or will the wheels, not due to any accidents, but due to severe stress elevations shorten my life?
I'd rather take the bus.
Round, and round,
With someone else at the wheel.

Since you didn't get a surprise, Dad. And since you don't think I blog about you, Veronica.

It seems like April just slipped through my fingers, or raced past me on some sort of wind.  You know the wind I'm talking about.  The one that has a mysterious personality.  It's the one that whistles, and howls, and cries, and dances, and laughs, and sings.  Each day must have been caught and carried away by the wind, because Easter, and my birthday, and exams, and packing, and saying good bye, and saying hello, and surprising everyone at home...could have been a year ago if you ask me at the right time of day. 


I've started writing this so many times. I've typed intro paragraphs, outlines of what I might like to say, little blurbs here and there which I then erased for some reason that makes sense in my head but probably wouldn't win an argument.  I even tried writing it out on the plane.  But alas, (ear wax, to quote a famous and actually likable professor) each attempt was in vane.


Maybe because I wanted to say something profound.  Something that I could read in a few years and go "wow, I learned something." Something that those of you who've known me for most of my life could read and think to yourselves, she's grown a lot.  I'm not suddenly a food taller (or wider, thankfully). And I don't know off hand why the sky is blue, or which came first, the chicken or the egg.  But I do wonder if what I feel and think about myself is just me - or if it's visible to others.  And if it's visible, I hope it doesn't stand out like a bad hair cut, mismatched shoes, or an inside-out shirt.  I hope it becomes me...in every sense of the phrase.


I can remember at least once for every birthday I've had over the last several years somebody asking me if I "feel a year older."  And for the first time this year, I do.  Maybe because I was actually not looking forward to my birthday, a sure sign that childhood is on the retreat, I suppose.  But it had nothing to do with being older - it just was an inconvenient day to have a birthday.  I had Spanish at 9 in the morning, when I was supposed to have a quiz and hand in my last assignment.  It was the last day of classes, and I had a french exam the next day.  I also was in the process of planning three surprises: One for Veronica's birthday on the 18th, one for Taylor, and one for everyone at home, everyone except my dad, hence the title.  And to top it all, I was beginning to feel sick.


So begrudgingly I woke up on April 12th, late, as usual, and ran to my class.  The class which my prof had specifically said we had to come to because of the quiz.  You can imagine how impressed I was when she came 15 minutes late to tell us she wanted us all to come back and hour later.  And you can imagine how annoyed I was when I got back to my room, and walked in on Taylor and Veronica setting up a surprise for me.  And you can imagine how excited I was to be sitting in the lounge by myself on my birthday, waiting for the now slightly ruined surprise to be finished.


I should have been excited.
I have the best friends in the world!  Taylor and Veronica had decorated my room for a Gilmore Girls themed party (because Veronica got both of us hooked on the show!) It was so amazing! They bought donuts, made very perfect signs to match the ones in the show, and had more surprises planned throughout the day! I went to my classes, and then was surprised by Amber, Carla, and Isabelle who took me out for dinner at Zak's diner.  I also got a package in the mail from Sidney with everything I needed to make 6 cupcakes in the mircrowave, phone calls from my family, and messages on facebook which really made my day!  


We finished the evening watching the Wizard of Oz, drinking wine, and eating candy.  We're that sophisticated.

The morning of the 18th I woke up a little late, but managed to make it to church sort of on time.  I knew Lane was going to be late too, and Lianne was out of town for the morning, so I had planned to sit near the back, wherever there was an available seat.  Instead, Sam flagged me down, and i ended up sitting in a row of young adults. 

It's been a long, long time since I sat in a row at church that was full of people my age.  Without really realizing it Grace Presbyterian has become my home.  Lane greeted me after the service saying "guess what? I've found a new hope!" And suddenly I was faced with the realization that in a short matter of time, I wouldn't be there for 4 months.  After church we talked for a while, then piled into Sam's car for the regular time listening to Weezer and driving to wherever it is we're going.  We pulled into THe Works, a reasonably famous restaurant which serves a vast variety of burgers: the most notable in my opinion including peanut butter and kraft dinner as toppings.

Mine was called First Date, and had brie, mushrooms, tomatoes, and garlic.

Delicious!

A yummy lunch was followed by one of my favourite Sunday afternoon past times - watching Star Wars, A New Hope.   Sitting with my new friends, finishing Veronica's birthday present, watching light saber and starship battles, I felt so at home.  

On the optimistic sunny day, glass-half-full side of me, it's an incredible blessing to feel at home in two cities.  

But when it's dismal and gray, and the glass is seeming empty, having two homes means that I'm inevitably going to be homesick, and no matter where I am, I'm going to have an ache in my heart for a group of people that mean the world to me. 

Star Wars ended, and it was time to help with dinner, and entertain Lane's adorable little cousins who were over to celebrate his birthday, which was the next day.  I so miss having relationships with kids!  I was beyond touched when they drew me pictures and made me some little things for scrapbooking.  After an amazing dinner and conversation, I headed back to rez.  It was sad - because I had an exam the following Sunday, I wasn't going to be spending another full day with the Johnston's until coming back in September.  

But the evening looked up, quickly!  Veronica's reaction to the scrapbook that Taylor and I had just barely finished on time, was priceless.  For the first time in 8 months, she was completely silenced.  "Oh my God you guys," was all she could say.  Over, and over, and over again.  Hugs, and smiles, and disbelief, and an hour later, after looking at each of the pages, and finding all the hidden pockets, I said goodnight.  The entire day was just so emotional! Stressful: missing the bus, and trying to finish the present, and just being really busy all day.  Joyful: praising God with my friends, spending time together, laughing with children, surprising Veronica.  Sad: knowing that goodbyes were just around the corner.  Even though the preparation drove me a little crazy...Veronica's reaction to her gift was so much more amazing than I had imagined.  It may have been the most joy I've ever had giving a gift!

From the 19th to the 27th, most of my time was spent either trying not to be sick, or trying to absorb mass amounts of information.  I studied by the canal, on parliament hill, in my room, in the laundry room, in Veronica's room, in the lounge, practically even in my sleep.   There's no need to talk about the exams.  They came, they happened, and there's nothing else I can do about them, the end.  

But then came the real end.  And it was one of those things thats paradoxal or ironic or another english word that I don't really want to admit I could use in real life.  (Simile) It was like a child being so excited for Christmas.  They counted down the days.  They were really looking forward to that perfect, super-cool gift that everyone wanted that year.  And then the day comes, and you wake up early, and breakfast takes forever to cook, and you feel sick, and the family's fighting, and people don't arrive on time, and by the time you open the gift you just want to go to sleep.  And you don't want to talk about it anymore.  You dont want to show it to people.  You dont want to play with it.  It's not that you aren't thankful for it, but it's as if the anticipation left you so focussed on one thing that you forgot about so many others.  I hadn't counted on it being hard to leave.  

I'd expected to hate residence. I'd expected to be excited not to have to share a room.  Not to have to see the people who lived on my floor all the time.  And even though I've known for quite some time that I actually liked residence.  And I actually liked sharing a space.  And I actually liked having friends living on the floor...I hadn't prepared myself for how much else I'd come to love about my life in residence, or in Ottawa for that matter.  And maybe it hurt more leaving Ottawa than going there.

Right after finishing my last exam on the 27th, which literally involved writing until the last minute, I met up with Amber.  We talked, and planned, and had lunch together.  I remember writing and talking about how I couldn't just make new friends.  They wouldn't be deep, close friends.  They couldn't - they haven't known me for 5 years, they haven't grown up in the same classes as me.  They haven't spent so much time with me that they know all my quirks and yet still love me.  I was wrong!  I dont want this to sound like I don't still love and feel close to my friends at home...because that is so far from the truth.  But my friends in Ottawa really did grow up with me.  We grew to become more independent together.  We grew to know the University together. We grew to know the city together. We grew to know ourselves together...and even though it was only in 8 months, I feel like the person I was when I moved to Ottawa is so much younger and smaller than the person I am now that we might as well have been friends all our lives!  I said goodbye to Amber, and hopped on a bus to Orleans, where I was meeting up with Sam and Lane to go out for wings.  

More goodbyes.

Taylor and Veronica and I had plans for that night.  It was Veronica's last night in rez.  We were going to have a movie night, and then wake up early in the morning for pancakes.  Instead, I discovered I had not very many hours left to pack up all my things, and we ended up cooking four meals, and stuffing anything I didn't need for the Summer in a box, to be picked up early the next afternoon.  I remember almost falling asleep when Veronica asked why there was a strange light in the room.  
That's the sunrise, I said.
See you in three hours for breakfast.

Wednesday was a day of more packing, and running errands.  Sell textbooks, move boxes, clean fridge, get ready to go.  In secret!
If you are reading this and you don't know when I really got home, I surprised everybody by coming home on the 29th (Thurs) and kept the secret that I was home until May 2nd, when my brother, and our friends Nate and Samuel were leading worship at my grandparents' church - and I led with them.

Taylor and I had dinner that night sitting behind parliament, staring out at the river, enjoying the sun.

Just before 8 AM, on April 29th, I handed in my keys, said goodbye to my roommate, and stepped into a taxi on its way to the airport.

I had a lot of time to think on the way home.  I've finished my first year of University.  I've come to a point in my life where for once, it feels like my brain and my body are at the same place.  Maybe it's because I've grown up enough to know I'm young - and I'm "old" enough that for the first time in my life, I'm glad to be the age I am. Something special about 19?  Never, in my wildest dreams, could I have imagined this year going by as fast - and as well as it did.  Maybe I don't have 99% in my courses.   But I'm satisfied.

And dad? Hopefully, after two days of blogging, this post satisfied you too.